Like Fire From A Busted Gun
by Can'tStopImagining
Summary: She's always known the girl was a little crazy, now she realises she's a big bit crazy, but that doesn't change how she feels about her. Nicky/Lorna.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is set around 2.11 ish but it goes a completely alternate route from what happened in canon. The title of this story comes from Narc by Interpol and is one of my favourite lyrics of all time. I should warn you this chapter does contain mentions of blood. This is just a short prologue and the next chapter will be up very soon.

* * *

_All your history's like fire from a busted gun._

* * *

After what happened with Christopher in the visitation room, Lorna hasn't been right at all.

In the lunch hall, she pushes food about her tray, never finishes anything. She refuses to visit the rec room, spends most of her time in her cube, or in Nicky's. It's not particularly surprising; since the stir Christopher made, everyone's been talking about her, and there's only so much one person can take before they break. She isn't a strong person. She might like to act like she is, but Nicky knows better, can hear her crying in her bunk at night from her own cube. Lorna has been putting on this brave face, this chipper exterior to hide the demons inside of her, for so long, it must be exhausting. She can't go anywhere now without being harassed, made fun of. Even if it's just in whispers, it's impossible to ignore. There's only so many times Nicky can tell people to shut the fuck up.

All the fight she has left just evaporates out of her, like air let out of a balloon.

There's so much shit going on with Vee and Red and preparing for the upcoming storm (both in the literal sense of the word, and the one that's quite obviously brewing between the two tribes), that Nicky's initial plan to stick to Lorna like glue hasn't quite come into fruition. She has to fight Red's corner, too, and if she can't persuade Lorna to leave her bunk and come too, there isn't much she can do.

The most painful part is knowing that no matter what she _does do_, she's never going to be enough for Lorna. She never has been enough. She wishes with her heart and soul that she could be, that she could tell her it's all going to be okay and know that she really means it. But she can't, so she doesn't, because lying to her isn't going to take any of the pain away.

"Is she okay?" Piper asks in that fucking tone of hers that means she's asking more for her own state of mind than Lorna's, like she wants a new project to work on, just like after Tricia's death, and Nicky might have grown to like her a lot more now, to consider her one of her closest friends in this dump, but she still has to grit her teeth to stop herself from saying something she shouldn't.

"She's realised that the guy she's in love with is a total fucktard who wants nothing to do with her, the entire prison is talking about her like she's some bunny-boiling psychotic bitch... yeah, she's doing just great."

Piper raises her eyebrows, "hey, don't take it out on me. You know she _did_ do a lot of scary stuff, Nicky. People are bound to talk. They just never expected it of- well, she always seemed so sweet."

Shaking her head, Nicky fidgets, scrapes a screw along the top of the work bench they're sat at, "she _is _sweet. She's still the same fucking person. She's still our Lorna. I don't understand how people can just forget that."

It's not that she's ignoring what Lorna did. It's not that she's denying that there's a problem. She can see through the haze of what she feels for Lorna just fine, even if everyone else thinks she can't. It's not that she refuses to acknowledge what Lorna did, she just doesn't see how that changes anything about the Lorna _she_ knows. She's always known the girl was a little crazy, now she realises she's a _big bit_ crazy, but that doesn't change how she feels about her. If anything, her overwhelming need to protect her is stronger now. The kid needs help. She doesn't need to have everyone who she's ever cared about shove her away like she's suddenly a disease they're afraid to catch.

The way Nicky sees it is this: Nicky _used_ to be an addict. As an addict, she was destructive, a ticking bomb waiting to go off, rude to just about anyone who wasn't offering her a fix, someone nobody wanted to be around. Lorna's history may be different from hers, but she sees it the same way. She isn't the same person that she was, and neither is Lorna. What's in the past is no one's fucking business. The point is, Lorna wouldn't hurt a fly.

Nicky's tired of Piper, like she's tired of just about everybody else, but she can't leave because they still have at least another hour left in electrical before their work assignment is through. Fortunately, she's become pretty skilled in tuning out of conversation, and Piper soon seems to get the message, leaving her to fuck around with tools by herself. It's a slow day in the office. The worst kind of day when you're trying to escape from your own head. Her mind keeps drifting back to Lorna, imagining her behind the wheel of the prison transport van, trying to act normal, trying not to think about her trip to Albany, and all the shit that has happened since. Maybe she still cracks jokes, still listens to her radio shows. What does she do for the hours she has to wait for Rosa to be done at the hospital?

She stops thinking about it because she suddenly can't stop imagining her driving the van off the road out of desperation, and it would be okay if it was something she could honestly say she couldn't imagine Lorna doing, but she's not so sure anymore.

When work assignment finally ends, Nicky heads straight for Lorna's cube, hoping she'll be back from herding Rosa around. She finds her bunk empty, and is halfway to the rec room when she sees a small brunette head bobbing through a crowd of inmates, and quickly changes direction, walking straight into someone and only half-mumbling a 'sorry'.

"Hey! Morello! Wait up!"

She's relieved when Lorna turns around, stops in the middle of the corridor. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are pink from being outside, and she's wearing a tiny smile on her bright red lips, which widens a little when she sees Nicky.

"Where you in such a hurry to get to, huh?" Nicky asks once she's face to face with her.

"Oh, nowhere, y'know, just thought I'd take a shower before dinner, I guess."

Nicky searches her eyes, finds nothing there, but her tone of voice is a little off, "yeah? You want some company?" she asks, falling back on old habits. It's always easier to make a joke, have a flirt, than admit to being concerned.

Rolling her eyes, Lorna's smile tugs at her lips a little more, "you wish."

"That doesn't sound like a solid no," Nicky continues, smirking. Lorna elbows her, but there's a grin on her face that Nicky hasn't seen in a while.

"I'll see you at dinner," she says, offering her a little wave as she disappears into the crowd again.

Nicky watches her go, and okay so she might not be quite the same, but moments like this, when she sees the old Lorna peeking through, give her hope that one day she'll have her back. There's only so much people can say about her before she becomes old news, right? In a place like this there's always something happening, always something to talk about. Lorna and Christopher will only do the rounds in the rumour mill for a few days and they'll be talking about someone else. That's how Litchfield works.

She sighs, runs her fingers through her hair, and makes the decision to go back to her bunk, maybe do some reading before dinner. The rec room doesn't feel appealing anymore. She's spent enough of today avoiding people.

Nicky's only had her back turned for about ten seconds when she hears the noise that plummets her back in the other direction. She's moving before her mind can catch up with her legs and almost trips over when a second scream follows the first, ringing in her ears and pounding through her body. Inmates are pushing past her in the other direction, and she's having to fight hard against the current, but she can't stop. Her eyes dart around, searching desperately for the short brunette who only left her minutes ago, but she's nowhere to be found, and Nicky can feel her heart hammering away in her chest, threatening to give out, and she pushes someone out of the way, doesn't even pause to apologise.

It happens all at once.

At first, she just looks like she's sitting on the ground, and Nicky wants to shout at her, to tell her to get up, ask her what the fuck she thinks she's doing scaring the shit out of her like that. But there's something weird about the way she's holding herself, and then she sees the panicked look on her face, and she's still propelling herself forward, dropping to her knees, when she catches the first sight of the blood.

Lorna's clutching her neck, her legs splayed out under her, and her eyes are wide and terrified, and the blood is everywhere. It's oozing between her fingers, pooling on her khakis, drizzling down her chest. It's sticky and red and her skin is so very pale beneath it, and it's all Nicky can see.

She moves on auto pilot, pulls Lorna to her, tries to assess where the fuck it's all coming from. She presses her fingers tightly over Lorna's which are thick with blood, and she's shouting for help but nobody's listening and Lorna tries to speak but nothing comes out and all Nicky can think is _no, not like this, I can't lose her like this. Not now._

* * *

_**A/N:** I am sorry. That's all._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I didn't want to leave you guys waiting on that evil cliffhanger for too long, so here's chapter two. I'm gonna keep going with the Narc lyrics because honestly I feel like that song fits Nicky particularly well. Thank you for all your kind reviews – I hope I haven't ruined you all too much with that cliffhanger and the brutal element to this story.

* * *

_Don't give up your lover tonight_

* * *

They take her on a stretcher. It could have just as easily been a body bag.

She's limp and semi-conscious and her skin is white as snow, sweaty, coated in blood. Nicky holds her hand as far as they'll let her, and they practically have to pry her fingers away to get her to let go, and then she's gone.

And Nicky's alone.

She's not really, but at the same time, she is. She's aware of the crowd that's gathered, can hear their voices, but it's all a blur. She drops back down to the place where it happened, where blood is pooling on the linoleum flooring, and her fingers wrap around Lorna's towel that has gone forgotten, abandoned under her lifeless body. They're going to investigate. People will be here any minute, shutting off this part of corridor, treating it as a crime scene; she knows the drill. But it's not just the same old, because it's _Lorna_ and the towel she's clutching is Lorna's, and the blood she's sitting in is Lorna's.

Her arms are covered in drying blood. It's up her fingernails, smeared down her face, matted in her hair, coating her khakis so fully that her skin is probably stained pink underneath. Her shoes are covered in it. She sinks against the wall, and finally allows herself to cry, allows the situation to sink in, to fill every part of her. And it hurts. It really fucking hurts, like nothing she's ever felt before.

She looks up, and Red's standing there, and she has tears in her eyes.

"Come. We need to get you cleaned up."

Nicky vaguely hears the conversation between Caputo and Red as Piper's getting her to her feet, but she's not concentrating, the words don't register. Caputo's saying they need to talk, Red's saying she's not talking to anyone in this state.

Red and Piper practically carry her to the showers, and even then she's too out of it to get in by herself. She stands there, covered in the blood of the woman she loves, and shakes and cries, digging her fingers into her own skin. The same mantra is going over and over in her head: _why her? Why not me? Why would anybody hurt her? Why?_

"Nicky, my beautiful little girl, I know it hurts. I know. But you need to get out of these clothes and into some fresh ones, you hear me? You aren't going to be any help to Lorna like this."

Her name sends a new shiver through Nicky's body, but it half snaps her out of it, and she nods her head, tries to will her body to move.

"Here, let me help you," Piper says softly, and she starts to peel the blood-soaked clothes off Nicky's body, casting glances at Red as she does so. Any other time and Nicky would be making a billion different jokes, in her element at the idea of the prissy blonde undressing her, not to mention getting her hands dirty as she did it, but jokes are the last thing on her mind. She can't stop the image of Lorna from repeating itself in her head, and she feels like she's going to be sick, and suddenly it's too much to keep in.

Fortunately, her legs work when she needs them to, and she hauls herself away from Piper, lands against the toilet in the nearest cubicle with such force that it's going to bruise, and promptly empties her stomach's contents into the bowl. Her fingers grip the toilet so tight that when she lets go, there's red marks all the way around. She stares at her hands for a long time, her vision going blurred, and then she throws up again.

Finally, when she's sure she's finished, she drags herself back to the shower. For the first time, she notices that Piper has mascara tracks down her face. Somehow that just makes it all the more real.

"I can wash myself," Nicky says, but her voice comes out broken, unrecognisable.

"I'll go get you some clean clothes," Piper offers after a moment, and Red nods promptly, doesn't look at her as she leaves them.

"Come on, ma, I'm a big girl."

Red's expression doesn't change as she stares squarely into Nicky's eyes, "we'll get her. We'll get the bitch who did this to her, you hear me Nicky? We'll fucking get her."

* * *

The worst part is that they won't tell her anything.

She's made to sit in this tiny room that's not entirely dissimilar to the SHU whilst she waits for the detectives to get to speaking to her, and they won't fucking tell her _anything_.

Lorna could be dead for all she knows.

She kicks the leg of the metal table she's sitting at in frustration. Nobody comes. No CO to threaten to give her a shot, no Red to smack her around the head.

She still has Lorna's blood under her nails, even after scrubbing her hands six times. It won't go away. She feels like maybe she understands how Lady Macbeth felt. Lorna's death, or near-death, is on her hands in the non-literal sense anyway. Because she didn't protect her well enough, because she didn't look after her, because she couldn't stop the big bad world from sucking her into one of its black holes and spitting her back out as damaged goods.

The rational part of her brain knows that it isn't really her fault, that she can't be to blame for something she could never have seen coming, but she's never really been able to use logic when it comes to Lorna.

"Eyyy, you ever going to fucking come back for me?" Nicky yells at the closed door, running her hands agitatedly through her damp hair.

She's met with silence.

She hates men in suits on principal, and she knows in her heart that these idiots aren't going to catch whoever shanked Lorna, and that she's wasting precious time being stuck in here. _It's procedure. _Procedure is bullshit. Procedure is what let Pornstache back into the prison. Procedure is what let Tricia's death be swept under the carpet as a suicide. Procedure is what lost Red the kitchen. It's never worked out in their favour before, and it certainly won't now.

She can't stop thinking about Lorna. About her blood-stained fingers curling into the fabric of Nicky's khakis, the fear in her dark brown eyes, the lipstick smudged across her chin, the feel of her clammy, cold skin in Nicky's arms.

She's gone through the scenario in her head over and over and over again, still can't make sense of any of it.

Why would somebody want to take Lorna out? Why would anyone actually see _Lorna_ as a threat?

Nicky's always known that Litchfield is fucked up but this is a whole new category of crazy, and she can't get her head around the fact that somebody she lives and breathes with every single day would want Lorna of all people dead. Gossip is one thing, something that she's come to expect of people who have nothing better to do, but she never in a million years considered any of it to be an actual threat to Lorna.

She's about ready to start kicking up another load of fuss when the door finally opens, and two white guys in suits enter, sitting down across from her. They have a manilla folder which they open on the desk, and the bulkier looking guy has a cheap yellow lined notepad. Nicky inwardly groans; there's no way dumb and dumber are going to catch whoever did this.

They ask her a bunch of mundane questions, try to delve further into her friendship with Lorna, practically accuse her of having motive to hurt her, and eventually, let her go.

She doesn't appreciate the way they refer to Lorna in the past tense, but they do assure her she's still alive. She's in critical condition in hospital. Not that it does much to ease her mind.

As she trudges back to her bunk, Nicky knows everyone's staring at her, whispering about her, but she doesn't pay attention to any of it. She feels numb. A different kind of numb from the numb drugs used to give her, a different kind of numb than going cold turkey brought with it. Her body alternates between feeling too heavy, and feeling empty.

She walks past Lorna's cube without even a glance towards it, is glad when none of her friends try to talk to her. When she reaches her bunk, she sits down heavily, almost misses the note that's lying across her pillow.

_Act one always ends with Bernardo on the ground_.

She might not be the West Side Story enthusiast that Lorna was (_is_. Is is is is is), but she knows enough to know what this note's fucking about, and she immediately feels a rage boiling up inside of her. She punches the wall, turns to Norma who is sitting awkwardly on her bunk across the cube.

"You see who left this?" Norma shakes her head. "I swear to god I will _fucking kill whoever did this, you hear me? You... you hear me?"_

She starts off shouting – vaguely hears Bennett mutter an awkward, half-hearted 'that's enough, inmate', but it feels far away – but crumbles, scrunching the paper into a ball and collapsing against the wall, her knees tight to her chest. Tears are spilling down her cheeks and her chest feels tight and she can still taste bile from the last time she was sick. She squeezes her eyes closed, punches the wall again, doesn't even notice when her knuckles start to bleed. Everything is so fucked up.

When she opens her eyes, Norma's hovering over the bed, her eyes soft and sad. Nicky stares at her for a moment, then notices what she's holding. Taking the grey material from the older woman's hands, she doesn't even need to look at the label to know who it belongs to, holds it close to her face, begins to cry again, sobs shaking her body. She mumbles a thank you, and Norma gently rests a hand on her shoulder before going back to her own bunk.

* * *

"Who the fuck shanks someone and then makes a musical theatre reference, like that shit's fucked up yo."

Nicky goes to the library in the hopes of some peace and quiet. She thinks she might just lie down one of the aisles and blast her radio at full volume for a couple of hours, tune out from the world. Breakfast was fucking awful (Lorna's favourite meal of the day; Nicky couldn't even bring herself to touch her waffle) and she doesn't want to deal with anyone for the rest of the day, but it's Sunday so the chapel is occupied. She had hoped people would get the fucking message to leave her alone, but no such luck. She's in the library for barely a minute when Poussey appears, and whilst she knows her heart's in the right place, Nicky really isn't in the mood.

"It's all fucked up," she says, hoarsely.

"I know, man. I mean, who would wanna hurt your girl? Like, shit, what's she ever done to anyone?" the solemn look on her face is actually somewhat comforting, and Nicky finds a tiny smile raising the corner of her mouth an inch before it disappears.

"Haven't you heard? Lorna's apparently the only person in this place to have ever committed a fucking crime. At least that's what you'd think from how people have been talking about her."

The look that drifts across Poussey's features may be one of guilt, regret, but Nicky doesn't care much to pull her up on it, just shrugs, dropping to the floor and sitting against a bookshelf. She's surprised when Poussey joins her. More so when she realises she's not as irritated by it as she should be.

"Is she doin' okay?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. These assholes won't fucking tell me anything. She could be dead for all I know."

Saying the words out loud make it all the more real and she feels the bile rise in her throat again, the tears prick at her eyes.

"Nah, that girl's tougher than she looks, y'know? She'll pull through."

Nicky hopes so. She really really hopes so, because the thought of blindly stumbling through life without her is too much to handle, and she thinks she'd rather die than attempt it, and that's how she knows she's in too deep.


	3. Chapter 3

_Show some love and respect..._

* * *

Lorna clutches at her shirt with limp, weak fingers, coated in blood. She tries to sit up, tries to speak, but all that comes out is less than a whisper, a breath of 'Nicky' that's there but not quite there. The blood's pooling between their fingers that are squashed together against her throat, and Nicky's screaming "help, please, someone fucking help" until her own voice is hoarse, but nobody's coming. People walk past like they don't even hear, don't even see them, and her vision is getting blurred with tears and blood as she watches Lorna fade away in her arms, pale and clammy and covered in deep red blood.

Nicky wakes up shaking, and crying, and drowning in sweat.

It's the same dream she's had every night for the last three nights. The same dream she fears she will have for the rest of her time in Litchfield, or at least until Lorna comes back.

_If _Lorna comes back.

She knows she's not dead because the C/Os keep using the words 'in critical condition'.

"We're doing this sweep because an inmate remains _in critical condition_ in a local hospital"

"May we remind you that an inmate is _in critical condition _after the events of Saturday"

Nicky doesn't need to be reminded. She still sees it every time she closes her eyes, still hears the whispers around her when she walks down the corridor, sits down in the lunch hall, even when she's sitting alone on her own fucking bunk.

They issue bunk sweeps every day. They have C/Os patting people down in the yard. They don't find anything. Whatever someone used to puncture Lorna's neck is long gone.

The investigation, as Nicky had already predicted, turns up nothing. All that happens is everyone is forced to sit in their little room and talk awkwardly about someone who, the majority of them, knew nothing about. Not really.

She overhears some of the spanish girls, the one with the eyeliner, and her friend, complaining about how strict everything has got, and how it isn't fair that they've had their bunks swept three times in the last two days, and she can't help but snap at them, lose her temper. Lorna is in fucking hospital and they care more about the fact their lipstick was taken away.

When she walks into the library, hoping to find solace in a book (more than likely in the pictures rather than the text; she can't concentrate on anything longer than a few minutes lately), Taystee and Poussey are having a loud discussion and it only takes her a few seconds to realise what it's about.

"93% of neck wound victims die before they even make it to the hospital. And even after that, like 5% survive. I've done my research, P! You know I take my salted snacks seriously! There is no fucking way she's gonna make it back here. That's if she hasn't bitten it already."

It takes all of Nicky's willpower not to go over there and smash her fist through Taystee's face. There's no point in making more enemies in this place, especially someone who is part of Vee's crew. She knows this damn place takes bets on just about everything, but how long Lorna's going to live is fucking low. She leaves the library before she says or does something she regrets.

No one really wants to spend time with her anymore, and she can't exactly blame them because she's snapped at just about everyone. Still, Chapman keeps coming back for more, and though there are times when Nicky wants to tell her to fuck off (in fact, she literally does do that... twice), she can't help but admire her for sticking around. She is grateful, even if she can't always show it.

She's still happier alone, though, and she's not at all pleased when her hiding place in the Chapel is disturbed my someone tapping her on the shoulder, less so when she sees it's a C/O, but it's only when she notices which one that she sits fully up, a small smile spreading across her face for the first time in days.

"Well, look who's back," she says, putting her headphones to one side.

Fischer looks embarrassed as she explains herself, "they needed extra people with the security increase and everything. I guess you're probably disappointed in me for coming back. I didn't take your advice."

It feels good to have a conversation with someone that isn't revolving around Lorna, to be talked to by someone who isn't tip-toeing around her like she's a bomb ready to go off. For a moment, she can pretend everything's normal.

"Naw, I'm kinda glad to see you, truth be told," she says, then quickly adds, "don't worry, I'm not hitting on you this time."

Fischer laughs uneasily, "I shouldn't be talking to you, you know,"

"Sure. This never happened," she says, grabbing her headphones.

She smiles, then sits down in the row of chairs behind her, leaning on the back of where Nicky's been lying, her face suddenly growing serious. Nicky inwardly moans, braces herself for whatever awkward conversation is coming next. There's only so many times you can hear the words 'I'm sorry' before they become meaningless, and Nicky reached her quota days ago.

"I've been talking to the hospital," Fischer finally says after a moment, "she's in ICU. They took her straight to surgery. She's really lucky that they... missed anything vital. She's just started breathing on her own, so... I mean... the news isn't great, but she's hanging in there."

For a long moment, Nicky just stares at her, trying to process everything she's just been told, but it feels like too much information, and her brain is too tired to connect the dots. It doesn't feel real, talking about Lorna being strapped to a machine, tubes down her throat. It just doesn't feel real at all. She keeps expecting to see her in the lunch hall, shovelling scrambled eggs down and talking with her mouthful, the reality of the situation still struggling to sink in. Even now, even as Fischer talks about her, it feels like they're talking about somebody else, that it can't possibly be Lorna because Lorna is like sunshine and she doesn't belong in such a dim place.

"Thank you," she finally says, swallowing awkwardly, "I mean it... thank you."

"I'm gonna keep checking in with them but... you know I shouldn't be telling you any of this at all. So, if anyone asks..."

"I'll keep schtum," Nicky says, gesturing pulling a zipper across her mouth.

Fischer smiles sadly, "I just know how much she means to you and... well, I've always liked her, you know?"

She makes to go, and Nicky watches her get to the door before she calls after her, "Hey, Fischer? It's good to have you back."

She shoots her a smile, and disappears outside.

* * *

At lunch, she actually chooses to sit next to Chapman, rather than have the blonde sit down opposite her when she's not looking. This seems to take her by surprise, and when Piper asks her how she's doing today, there's more than a hint of hesitation in her voice, like she's afraid Nicky's about to bite her head off.

"Look, Chapman... I know I have some, uh, apologies to make here," she wipes her hands nervously on her pants, runs her fingers through her hair, "Ey, I don't do 'sorrys' so can we just cut the bullshit and pretend I said something deep and touching here?"

Piper's eyes soften and she smiles, "of course. And hey, it's fine, people react to bad news in different ways..."

"You're the only person who is still talking to me even though I've treated you like shit," Nicky says, looking about the rest of the lunch hall, "I appreciate it, y'know?"

"I don't think it's so much that people aren't talking to you because you've hurt them, Nicky. I think people are trying to give you some space."

She knows there's a lot of truth in what Piper's saying even if she doesn't want to admit it. Hasn't she been begging for everybody to leave her alone, and now that they have, she's lonely. She needs to make her mind up because right now she doesn't even want to be with herself, so why would anybody else?

"Either way, I appreciate you putting up with my shit," she finally says, shrugging.

Piper smiles around her cup of juice, places it back on her tray, "have you heard anything yet?"

"Only that she's hanging in there. You know the black girls have fucking put a bet on how long it is before she croaks it? Can you believe people in here? Like, her life is worth the same as a packet of fucking salted peanuts."

"I could, uh, get Larry to-"

Nicky laughs, and the noise catches her by surprise, so she swallows it, "no, god... please... you don't need to do that."

Smiling, Piper returns to her dinner, "at least you know she's in the best place possible. They'll look after her in there."

_I hope so_, Nicky thinks as she half-heartedly tucks into her lunch.

* * *

Nicky sleeps. Nicky has nightmares. Nicky wakes up.

It's become so much a routine for her that it barely even bothers her anymore. There's twenty minutes or so initially when she wakes up where she fights back the need to be sick, and her heart is racing, and it takes her a moment to work out where she is, but after that, it's just the same old. She thinks that pretty much says it all.

Norma always stares at her with this frightened expression on her face until she tells her it's fine and she can go back to sleep. Nicky never goes back to sleep, though. She spends hours lying there, doing nothing, waiting for it to be breakfast time so she can go back to being busy. It's only when she's busy that she isn't thinking. She's well aware that she's looking more and more like a zombie every day; two hours of restless sleep a night is not enough to keep going on, but it's all her body is allowing.

On her way to electrical, she passes Vee and her girls making quiet conversation outside the bathroom, and normally she wouldn't give it a fucking second thought, but out of nowhere she stops walking and stands there, staring at them, for a good few seconds. She knows they have shit. She knows because four fucking days ago she was holding it in her hands, staring at it, liking the way it felt in her hands even if she didn't want to admit to it. She really thought about doing it, too. It had taken all the strength she possessed to take it to Red, to get rid of it. That was before somebody took Lorna out, before her life began to lose any of the slim meaning it had had before. Now she wasn't so sure she would make the same decision.

"Something we can help you with?" Vee says in that sickly way of hers, her lips drawn in a cunning little smile, and Nicky, not for the first time, wants to knock that smirk off her face.

"No," she finally says, forcing her feet to keep walking.

She searches the corridor for Fischer, but she's nowhere in sight, and she figures even if she was she wouldn't want to talk right here, in the open, where everyone can see. When she arrives at electrical, she's late, but she knows she's not going to receive a shot because even aside from everything else, she and Luschek have an understanding. He merely raises his eyebrows when she strolls in, and she waves a hand in his direction, takes her seat beside Piper.

The blonde is looking more antsy than usual, and she sits fidgeting whilst Luschek gives them their daily objectives, spending more time looking at Nicky than listening to what he's saying. It's making Nicky uncomfortable. As soon as he's done – she and Chapman are assigned to fixing a heater, which is a joke in itself because everyone knows this shithole never lets them have heaters, and the one that's dumped on their workbench is definitely from the C/O break room – she brings Piper up on it.

"Okay, what is it? I know I look like microwaved shit, but quit staring at me will you?"

Piper sighs, looks down, then meets her eyes again, "I guess you didn't see that they've... well, they've reassigned Lorna's bunk."

She feels all the blood drain from her face, her fists clench, her throat go dry. It was only a matter of time. She knows that. But it still hurts to think of somebody else sleeping there, somebody else using her locker.

"What did they do with her stuff?" she says around the lump that's forming, "you know what they did with her stuff? Tell me they didn't throw out her stuff, Chapman."

"I.. well, I know they took away some of it for the investigation but..."

"Fuck this," Nicky stands up from her workbench, "eyy, Luschek, I need to go to take a leak. That cool with you?"

"Nichols, you know I don't give a shit what you do as long as you ain't causing any trouble. Knock yourself out."

* * *

She finds Boo kicking it in the rec room, and she hasn't spoken to her since all this shit with Red went down, but she's more than happy to break the silence if it means getting Lorna's stuff back. She marches into the room and practically grabs her by the lapels, even though she knows that's a fucking mistake. Boo's at least three stone heavier than her, and easily shrugs her off.

"Good to see you too, Nichols," she sneers, pushing her away, "I'm gonna let you off from that because I know you're having a rough week, but, son, you come near me again and they'll be serving you in the cafeteria for lunch, you hear me?"

"Cut the shit, Boo, I didn't come here for a fight. Chapman told me they reassigned Lorna's bunk."

Boo nods, folds her arms, "sure. What's it to you? She's not gonna be around anytime soon to be needing it back."

Nicky ignores that comment, even though she feels it to the bottom of her stomach. No matter how many times she's reminded, it never stops hurting, never feels any less like a punch to the chest. She runs her fingers through her particularly messy hair, swallows.

"I'm gonna level with you. I need to know they didn't chuck her shit out. Her lipstick, those pictures of Mr. Snuggles and the cat... Hell, even her fucking shoes. I need to know that shit is all safe somewhere."

Shrugging her hefty shoulders, Boo wipes her mouth, looks at her with bright, leering eyes, "it's gonna cost you."

"What could I possibly have that you want?"

"Oh come on, you know what I'm talking about. You get Red to-"

Nicky rolls her eyes, "Red's not going to suddenly accept you back into the family with fucking wide arms. Be real. I don't have that kind of control over her and you fucking know it."

"Fine. You're catching me in a particularly charitable mood so I will tell you what I know, but only because your racist little girlfriend got herself shanked and I've been given someone with the common sense of a potato in her place – yes, there is in fact someone in this dump who is thicker than Morello."

"Watch your mouth," Nicky warns, her fist automatically clenching.

Boo holds her hands up in surrender, "okay okay. They sent Fischer to sort her shit out – did you know that wet flannel is back? - anyways, she took most of it. The pictures, some of her books... your mute roommate had already collected her clothes. As for her lipstick," Boo delves her hand into her pocket, holds it out.

As Nicky goes to reach for the tube of lipstick, Boo's fingers close around it.

"Oh come on, it's hardly your fucking shade,"

"Next time a shipment comes in from Red, you get me whatever I ask for," Boo says, holding the tube just out of Nicky's reach.

"Yeah, whatever."

She takes the lipstick and pockets it, heads back to electrical, making a mental note to find Fischer at some point.

**A/N:** Please don't get too used to me updating this quickly because I don't want to disappoint anyone, lol. Also, apologies if any of this doesn't quite link up timewise to the show - when you watch every episode in one go and keep rewatching them out of order, it gets a bit fuzzy.


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